“Because I’m lost,” explained Peter, in a slightly shaky voice, turning around to address himself to the head.
“Well, you may find yourself in a heap of trouble, travelling with a gnome. Never trust a gnome,” advised the head, coming back to settle on the old gentleman’s shoulders. “Ah! Here he comes!”
“Who kicked me?” demanded Ruggedo, glaring all around in a perfect fury. The owner of the cottage made no reply, but as he needed more tobacco for his pipe just then flung out his hand toward the mantel. The hand sailed through the air like a bird and, seizing the tobacco pouch, set it on the table and then quietly attached itself to the man’s wrist. At this odd occurrence, Ruggedo’s eyes rolled wildly. Cringing against the wall, he began to move stealthily toward the door.
“Don’t go,” begged the owner of the cottage blandly. “I’m not especially fond of gnomes, but as you are with this honest lad you may stay. Sit down on that bench there and if I catch you stealing anything, I’ll throw my head at you.” Pale with terror, Ruggedo did as he was told, while the man’s hand, flying off again, closed and locked the door.
“There!” he sighed, leaning back contentedly, “now we can talk without being disturbed and let us start at once with names. My name,” he confided proudly, “is Kuma Party, and I have had the curious gift which seems so to astonish you since early childhood. My father was a wizard, practicing magic in the Zamagoochie Country, before the practice of magic was forbidden in Oz, and it is to my father that I attribute my strange come-apartishness.” He paused and waited politely for Peter to make some remark, but Peter by this time was simply speechless, so Kuma, with an indulgent smile, went quietly on with his story.
“Being constructed as I am is extremely convenient,” he explained earnestly. “I am never tired or rushed about as ordinary Oz folk are. If I wish to pick the peaches in my orchard, I send my hands to attend to the matter and while they are busily at work I rest myself comfortably at home. If my body is tired and I desire to be amused, I send my head to the nearest village for news and I can often help my less fortunate neighbors by lending them a hand or foot when they are in trouble. Perhaps I can help you?” he suggested, leaning amiably toward Peter. “May I lend you a hand?” he finished graciously.
Now Kuma, in spite of his come-apartishness, seemed so pleasant and jolly that Peter wanted to tell him the whole history of his adventures, but Ruggedo frowned and shook his head, so for the present Peter decided to fall in with the gnome’s plans and merely told Kuma his name and asked him the way to Patch.
“Patch?” mused the Winkie thoughtfully. “Why, that’s not far from here. It is just below the Kingdom of Queen Ann of Oogaboo, but why not wait till morning? It’s growing dark now and besides it’s raining.” Looking out in surprise, Peter saw that it was raining. He had been so interested in Kuma’s story that he had not even heard the patter of raindrops on the roof.
“Better stay,” urged Kuma hospitably. “While my hands are preparing the supper, you can tell me some more about your own self and why you are going to Patch.”
All during Kuma’s conversation, Ruggedo had been wiggling with impatience and now, bouncing to his feet, he motioned for Peter to come along.